In picking a National Mammal, let's get buffaloed

Producing a federal budget may be a little too much for Washington, D.C., but never think we're not getting something for our money.

Congress is on a fast track to give us a national mammal.

This will be a surprise both to Americans who hadn't known we needed one and to others who thought the position was already filled by George Clooney.

The leading candidate is, as you might have guessed, the buffalo; apologies to all of you who were rooting for the wolverine. But while this may look like -- and largely is -- just another example of congressional avoidance of doing actual work, the bodacious bovine has some strong claims to qualify as an American symbol, along with hot dogs, apple pie and "Grand Theft Auto."

Congress, of course, has gotten the argument for the buffalo all wrong. "Since our frontier days," orated Sen. Mike Enzi, R-Wyo., in introducing the National Bison Legacy Act, "the bison has become a symbol of American strength and determination."

Actually, in those terms, you might want to tap the grizzly bear -- and then run really fast. Grizzlies, however, have gotten very bad press, probably due to their eating several reporters.

On the other hand, buffalo have always been crowd pleasers, the stars of countless Westerns, figures of both high adventure and low cholesterol. Buffalo pose on two state quarters, Kansas and North Dakota, not counting the buffalo skull on Montana's two bits.

The first reason buffalo should shortly be holding press conferences as America's new national mammal is how powerfully they symbolize how badly we can mess up and what we can do with a second chance.

In the 18th century, an estimated 30 million buffalo roamed the Great Plains and didn't need to seek any politician's endorsement. They didn't just cover state flags, they covered what are now states. And although tribes used buffalo for food, clothing and interior decoration, their hunting couldn't make much of a dent in the herds.

Then came the 19th century and American pioneers crossing the Mississippi. Buffalo were killed to feed railroad workers, to mount buffalo heads on walls and just because they wouldn't get out of the way. Hunts became a popular sport; shooting buffalo was the reality TV of the 1800s.

Without the Endangered Species Act, buffalo were virtually wiped out, possibly down to a few hundred around Yellowstone. At that point, Americans, especially tribes, launched an effort to save what were left. Now, there are several hundred thousand buffalo -- some roaming free, some as status symbols on large private ranches, some as part of the, um, food chain. Some are headed for a destiny as Buffalo Burgers, some to be called Beefalo -- although if you call a buffalo Beefalo, he won't answer.

The buffalo's story -- nearly wiped out by casual greed, slowly grazing its way back to survival -- clearly qualifies it as a symbol of America. Its record resembles the narrow escape of the longtime American symbol, the bald eagle, which came very close to extinction everywhere but on U.S. currency.

Buffalo have another claim to White House reception status. As Cindy Hoffman of Defenders of Wildlife points out, a large number of current buffalo are, well, part cow. Unlike, say, thoroughbred horses but a lot like most other Americans, 21st-Century buffalo are mostly genetically diverse. It's why they'd look good on coins next to E Pluribus Unum.

Oregon doesn't really have a dog, or any mammal, in this fight. Buffalo are not native around here, although there's a small herd wandering in the Wallowas, where they graze and fill out land use permits. Our state animal is the beaver, efficient but without wide appeal, kind of the Jon Huntsman of the National Mammal race.

But Oregonians might have a certain sympathy for a creature that faced extinction from mismanagement and slowly grazed its way back.

And we will clearly have a contender when Congress, seeking yet another way to avoid dealing with the budget, looks to name a National Fish.